


You Make the Streetlights Reappear

by fatalize



Category: Fruits Basket
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-18
Updated: 2015-02-18
Packaged: 2018-03-13 15:14:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3386393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fatalize/pseuds/fatalize
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some of Kyo's thoughts as he thinks about Tohru and his inevitable confinement.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Make the Streetlights Reappear

She’s snow-petals, sweet and soft despite the coldness that comes to her; she’s a thousand stars packed into one person, smiling with the sun in her mouth and radiating a warmth that’s infectious, inspiring, innocuous. She’s delicate fingernails and silky brown hair and wide-eyed kindness. It’s a wonder, he thinks, that anyone could be anything but good to her, could do anything but spoil her, tease her, want her. She’s the sun and the stars and the moon; the meadows and the evergreens and the flowers; the sky and the clouds and the gentle evening breeze. She’s the whole world compressed into one person, doing her best to hold the weight of it all, giving life to everything she comes in contact with.

She’s everything, he thinks, everything beautiful and wholesome that this planet could ever offer.

It’s a shame he can only be around her for a little while longer.

But that’s okay, he decides. It’s what was meant to be. It’s not like it would even be possible for her to fall for him, no, of course not, not after…not after that—

The only way it could ever happen was if it were an illusion. And Kyo knows full well what the future holds—reality is at his front door, knock knock knocking, refusing to be turned away for daydream delusions of snow-turned-spring girls.

Yes, the present will have to be good enough. So he tucks away the precious moments in the cracks and crevices of his chest, knowing they’re not enough to fix the fragile fragments, but they ease the aches little by little, softening his soul and attempting to mend the broken bits.

These memories will be enough,

he thinks—

or at least he convinces himself of that until she

b r u s h e s

her arm against his,

and his heart leaps out his chest and his cheeks catch fire, and she smiles and says “Kyo-kun!” in that energetic tone of hers, and he knows,

he knows,

that everything he tells himself is a flat-out lie, that he won’t be able to swallow his feelings and deaden his desires, that more than anything, the future he craves is one with freedom and hope and life—one with her, and only her, and forever and always her.

But he has no choice. The manacles on his hands are never coming off, nor are the ones around his ankles; he’s handcuffed from head to toe, bound by bonds he doesn’t want, pledged to promises that aren’t his own. He was born with a sentence, destined for a lifetime service to a hollow existence, residing in a lonely abode with not even a cellmate to soften the hopelessness of it all.

He knows just how bleak his future is. But being with her is a temporary high, a pleasant and prolonged dream. She’s the one who expels the darkness on a moonless night, making the streetlights reappear, a substitute star glowing in the abyss and giving him the courage to take another step forward. So he dares to dream, dream, dream for now, doing what he can for the moment—

—knowing this is his last opportunity to smile carelessly in the presence of the world he so admires.


End file.
